Primitive Obsession: Prequel to Final Retribution
by ElegantFantasies
Summary: Prequel to Final Retribution which will be published after this story comes to a close. What if Riddick wasn't the Convict with a heart of gold? What if his Primitive Obsessions with Jack take an ultimate turn for the worst? There is no sugar and fluff here. Dark, MA Mature, NOT FOR THE FAINT OF HEART.
1. The Dark

**Summary: Riddick has gone to the Underverse to rescue Jack from eternal damnation and, in the process, the little bit of humanity left in him has been stripped away. There is no Convict with a heart of gold here. Prequel to Final Retribution which will be published after this story comes to a close. **

**WARNING: This story is not for the faint of heart. If you've read a bit of Final Retribution when it was up, you know what to expect, if you haven't, then let me be clear. This is not a story of Sunshine, Rainbows, and Happy Ever Afters. Riddick is not a hero. He's a convicted murderer and will act as such. Animal Instinct and all. This is so Rated M that Rated M should have a sub category of Rated Xtra M. There will be Violence of many kinds (domestic, sexual, etc.) and a lot of heavy cursing. THIS CAN BE A TRIGGERING STORY. **

**Please, read at your own risk. **

**I do not own Riddick or any of it's franchises. Just this part of the plot. **

It was dark. And cold. She didn't think Hell was supposed to be cold. In the stories Imam had shared with her in an attempt to set her on a more promising path, he always described flames- eternal burning. The fire would lick the flesh but it would not melt away. She would stay exactly the same, trapped forever in infinite pain, unable to feel relief from the torment.

But it was so cold.

Her arms were bound in the frozen clasp of metal, the cuffs rubbing her wrists raw as her hands were pulled at an uncomfortable angle behind her. The darkness was filled with the tormented screams of those around her and she had remembered a time when her voice had risen in anguish with the rest. After a while, though, she realized screaming would not free her from her restraints. These were unbreakable. These were the chains of sin, weighed heavy with the wrongdoings of Before. Something inside of her, intuition or a thing far more spiritual, had let her know that the moment she felt her eyelids blink open to infinite black that each link was a life she had taken, food she had stolen, lies she had told and as her arms grew wearier, so did her hopes of leaving this damnation.

Then, there were the voices.

The voices were everywhere- around her and within her- screaming for her repentance, begging for her forgiveness. All of them were recognizable, even those she had only heard once before. It was like her soul had stowed away everyone she had every knew and brought them forth to plague her. There was her mother, her step-father, her elderly neighbor, the mercs who used and abused her- so many overlapping and lashing at her like the crack of a whip. She could almost feel them brush against her form, breaking her down with their never ending assault. The one that tore her the most, that ripped her still heart apart, was _his. _It was never more than a few words…

_Gotta kill a few people.. _

_Keep up…_

_I don't think she likes to be touched._

Over and over again he anguished her, reminding her of what she so desperately wanted Before- what she could never have After. It brought on waves of regret and despair. His was the one that had her pull her legs in to her chest, curling around herself as much as her heavy chains would allow. His was the one that truly tortured her.

He was louder in this moment, though time was an unimaginable force here. Seconds to years, years to seconds, so unknown. But he was louder.

It had been faint at first, the word and she had cringed, assuming her half fetal position, though it did no good. Soft, like the wind blowing, despite there being no wind. Only cold. She waited for the onslaught, but it was only that one word, steadily rising in volume, as if it had been at a distance and now drew nearer. She whimpered, squeezing her eyes shut despite there being nothing to see. She wished desperately to press her hands against her ears, such a trivial need so lost to her. Closer it drew, prowling like a bodiless demon, distressing her- afflicting her.

"_**Jack."**_

"Go _away_," She moaned, her tears icing in their paths down her cheeks, pinching the skin painfully.

There was Silence, silence in a place that was before so unbearably loud. Utter silence. The relief that overtook her made her sag, her head lolling back to rest against nothing. Her lids cracked open and her head lifted. In the darkness- so at home, so in element- were two luminescent eyes looking back at her and for the first time since she had died, Jack sank into unconscious, blissful release.

Riddick had never seen a soul before. He hardly believed the fuckers even existed despite his unwavering belief in God. Riddick was not a spiritual man. In fact, to give the Big Guy a nice 'Fuck You', he made a point to be very unspiritual, even going as far as to mock those so sure in their faith. Riddick was a bad guy, despicable even in his own ways, but only a really twisted fucker would create this kind of Universe and demand to be worshipped for it. His views only solidified further when he found her. He took The Lord Marshall's place before his body cooled, before her body cooled, and was reverently informed of something along the lines of an Underverse, a promise land to Necros, but a fucked up purgatory for those who had yet to truly convert to the faith. For the walking corpses it was the end game, but the rest were stuck waiting out their sentence until they could " Move Beyond" as the Necros put it.

Whatever the fuck that meant.

There would be no moving on for Jack anyway, not when he had a say.

The portal to the Underverse was not what Riddick had expected. It was simple cave on a lone planet that had no name and knew no living eyes. It smelled damp and the entrance was empty of light- pitch black. Of course, he could see though it as soon as he lifted his goggles. Nestled in the wet rock of the cave was a pool, but the water glowed an ethereal purple, almost too bright for his eyes. When he looked back for instructions on what the hell he was supposed to do (drink it? Bathe in it?), the entire Necro Civilization stood with their backs to him, even the Priest, who began to speak as if he sensed Riddick's ignorance.

"We are not permitted to look upon the the portal as you enter, Lord Marshall," He explained, his voice low so only the convict could hear. "You must wade through the pool, deeper until you pass through." He hesitated and Riddick had the urge to press his shiv into the dead man's back. He didn't like hold outs. It was bad for business, but the priest pushed on before he could dwell on it. "You will not some out the same and neither will your conquest. She will essentially be born to a new vessel, the pool will recreate her as she left. She will be… the first to ever die and come back. But you will be as the Lord Marshall before you- between two verses, neither here nor there. You will take a part of the Underverse with you… and you will leave a part of you behind. It is a sacrifice every leader before you has made."

Riddick didn't care too much about the talks of sacrifice or how Jack would be born again like some sort of Necro Massiah, so long as she was by his side, where she belonged. He thought briefly on the changes that were already made within him because of her and felt a resentment he had become all too familiar with since Fry bubble up within him. Humanity made him uncomfortable. Maybe the corpses had the right idea. Killing off humanity didn't seem like such a bad way to go.

'Cept it was bad for business.

When Riddick descended into the pool, the cold was nearly petrifying, almost locking his limbs into place, but he bore on, pushing forward without sound. As the liquid flooded his ears and nose, the only sound was his ringing ears. After a while, his lungs began to protest, but he shouldered on. His vision began to spot, still yet he kept going. He fought through with a determination he did not understand, but the pool was unending, getting deeper and deeper until Riddick's screaming lungs filled on their own accord. They took in the mysterious substance, coating his tongue and throat, freezing and tasteless. He inhaled it and it spread from his lungs to every part of his body. He imagined a thin layer of goo coating his insides before he was yanked roughly downward. Everything flipped- or more like he flipped and found himself crawling from the pool he had entered into a different kind of blackness.

And he found her. Through the darkness, after what felt like an eternity searching and calling out her name, he found her- or her soul. It was the cleanest he had ever seen another person in his life. She was what angels were supposed to look like- indescribable, beautiful, otherworldly. She didn't even look like Jack. But it was Jack, curled around herself like a butterfly stripped of wings.

_I'm a fucking poet now?_

He shook himself and called to her again. She moaned out to him and met his eyes briefly before she collapsed, her upper body jolting hard against the pull of heavy chains far too big for her. He was surprised at how easy they were to break. He had a feeling that when he went, when he died, his chains would not be so easily broken.

Riddick lifted Jack into his arms, the muscles bulging around her, and walked the way he came. As he waded into the portal, he watched mesmerized as the liquid coated Jack, wrapping around her and, slowly, before his very eyes, he watched her body be created. It was an intimacy he did not want to understand. He felt his own soul push against the boundaries of his body, trying to rip itself free and turn back. He felt it pull and resist, but his legs never faltered, his eyes never wavered from her, even as the wisps of liquid light that formed around her head darkened to chestnut ringlets and her skin, blinding before, dimmed down to a striking ivory. The peace.. The happiness that overtook him was unfamiliar.

It was only when Riddick was sucked back through the portal did he feel the loss the Priest had talked about. That peace and happiness… that unfamiliar tug of his soul, broke away like the heavy corners of an iceberg, lost to him in a sea of power.

As he took his first step onto the bank of the Mortal Dimension, Jack clutched solidly against him, Riddick felt something that had been pushed so far back inside of him he hadn't realized he had lost it.

It was his primitive side.

His Animal Side.

**Whoo. Back at it again. So, I decided that the only way I could finish Final Retribution was to not try to smush two different stories into it. Hence, the prequel. So, this will be the events that led up to FR and then I will finish FR (with some tweaks). This story is still gonna get pretty dark and heavy. To those who remember FR and still want to see it brought to a close, this story will be dedicated to you... because you guys are the reason this is happening. That and my obsession with a very bad,,, very very bad Riddick. **

**Please Follow, Favorite, and Review for me. I think you outta get the drill by now. **

**As Always, Much Love, **

**XOXO El**


	2. The Baddie

Jack woke with a start, shooting upward with wide eyes. There was not light for her to see and, with dawning horror and a galloping heart, she began to panic. Her breath ripped and pulled frantically between her lips, drying her mouth uncomfortably. It wasn't until she noted a strange, yet familiar, sensation did her nerves begin to calm. Jack was warm. There was no biting cold or heavy restraints and confusion swept through her. She wasn't dead because she had already died and she was sure that you couldn't hop from Hell to Heaven; that wasn't how it worked. Eternal suffering was eternal, the after-life didn't flip on a whim… did it? More so, Heaven probably didn't have beds. She recognized the feel of sheets against her bare skin and noted the plushness of the mattress below her. Where was she? How did she get here?

Tentatively, she scooted down, using her feet to feel for the end of the bed.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you." The rumble that filled the dark room made Jack freeze. Memories of After flooded back to her, wreaking havoc to her thoughts. So he _had_ been there. She hadn't imagined his shining eyes in the dark, but what did _that_ mean? Were they both dead? She didn't understand. "Your legs aint gonna' work right, kid." She cocked her head as he spoke, listening for what direction it came from and turned her head as she pinpointed it a little to her right.

"M-my legs?" she croaked, her voice rough with disuse. She sounded slow, if she could be frank with herself, but she wasn't quite getting it. What was wrong with her legs. They felt okay, some pins and needles, but they didn't seem any less than Before.

"Got some new legs, Jack," he chuckled lightly, but the timbre underneath made her slightly uneasy. "Gotta' break 'em in. Gotta' break a lot of things in."

"New legs?" she whispered out again, her voice clearing slightly. He sighed and she felt the edge of the bed dip as hot hair blew gently against her cheek. She turned her head slowly to face his breath and felt her nose brush against his. It was just so damn dark. She wished she could see his face, she wanted to watch his smirk when he spoke to her, wanted to take him in. She thought briefly that this might have been another way for Hell to torture her, but dismissed it when she felt his fingertips brush idly up her limp arms.

"New body," he replied. "Soft like baby skin. No scars, no marks… no muscle. You even gotta new smell- better." Something soft brushed against her throat and she assumed it was his nose when she heard him inhale, heat radiating off of him when he leaned close to her. Her body's reaction was instantaneous. Goosebumps erupted over her flesh, radiating from the small point of contact outward and she inhaled deeply, his own scent enveloping her nose. She recalled cartoons in Imam's living room, where the smell of food often gathered together in the shape of a hand, beckoning the character the way his smell called to her now, but it was easy to ignore. What with the news and all.

"H-how?" she gasped, disbelief rushing throughout her body like shivers on a cold night. It didn't make sense. She didn't even have a real body. She was dead. Her real body was probably rotted away to bones by now. The realization was surreal, knowing that she was separate from herself and still, for the most part, herself.

"You think I'd let you rot there 'cause you tried to play hero?" he asked. It was a reprimand, she could feel it, though his voice was still soft and his nose was still buried in her throat. His plush delivery did nothing to stop her hackles from rising, however, and she froze, her teeth locking together.

"Try is a little short, don't you think, Riddick?" she bit out, yanking herself back from him harshly. "Considering the way things were going before I '_played hero_', I'm pretty sure I saved your life." There was silence and, for reasons clearly portrayed in his past behavior, Jack grew anxious, even fearful. As much as she had swore to herself Before that she knew more about him than any other person would-could - the truth was a stark contrast. Despite fighting together to remain alive on multiple occasions, she knew very close to nothing about him and, no matter how easy it was to get a rise out of him with his flaring temper, she didn't know what was too far, but she couldn't help herself. She had died for him, suffered through… After for him and, no matter _if_ he rescued her, a little gratitude would have been a nice.

A little sympathy even.

"You wouldn't of had to save my life if you hadn't run off with them in the first place," Riddick finally said, his voice heated and Jack felt his hot hand close around her ankle, pulling her back toward him sharply and she yelped, her back hitting the mattress. She could feel his heat appear above and she imagined him hovering over her, the muscle of his arms bulging as he supported himself. Of course, there was no way to confirm this because she _couldn't see. _She didn't like it. Jack had never been afraid of the dark Before, she welcomed it even, using the blackness to imagine him watching over her until that hope faded. Then it was perfect to skulk through, hiding herself from those that would hurt her. Or those she would hurt. Now however, (she supposed she could call it after After) the dark reminded her of high pitched screams and unwelcome voices.

"What was I supposed to do, Riddick?" She argued. "Burn to a crisp? _Can we get a little fucking light in here?!_"

"Couldn't stick around to make sure I was really dead, Kyra?" He said, sarcastically, his voice dripping in it. "Couldn't see my body to the ground before you hopped on to the next big thing that could protect you?" Jack inhaled sharply, rage pulsing through her with each strong heartbeat in her ears. She couldn't even dwell on the fact that her heartbeat confirmed her life, she was seething so much. Her hands shot upward and cemented her earlier assumption that he was holding himself above her. She pushed as hard as she could, but he wouldn't budge. She felt the weakness in her arms and knew he hadn't been lying when he said she had a lot to break in. There was no force there, no muscle, no anything. She was weak and, somehow, that enraged her further.

"Typical that you would see it that way," she hissed, her voice ragged from her continued efforts to get him _the fuck off. _"I don't need anyone's protection. _WILL YOU TURN ON THE __**FUCKING**_ _LIGHTS?!" _Her arms shot forward as his chest disappeared and then she was blinded by brightness, her eyes burning from it. They were unaccustomed to it and tears gathered, threatening to brim over. Riddick stood tall and looming by a steel door, far more ornamental than she had expected with the little ships he tended to harbor in. His tan skin and black ensemble stood in sharp contrast to the pale gray of everything around them, not that she paid the surroundings much mind. She was an animal trying to decide fight or flight. His face was empty, but his body quivered with a rage she was not used to seeing directed at her. She had been privy to disinterest, annoyance, maybe a little anger, but never the fury that shook his body now.

"You do," he growled. "That's what you do. You hop from big fucker to big fucker. First me, then the mercs, then me again, and then the fuckin' necros because you can't make it without someone there _to watch your ass._" He was stalking toward her now and Jack wanted to argue, wanted to shove the accusations he was spewing up his tight little ass, but her tongue wouldn't unstick from the roof of her mouth and he was on a roll. His heavy boots made no noise on the floor as he pushed toward her, leaning over the bed where they were nose to nose, her reflection on his goggle staring back at her, wide eyed.. "Let me save you the trouble for next time you think of skippin' out for a better baddie:

I'm the biggest fucker you're ever gonna' find."

**Fans self.* I like to think that that was an argument they would have right away. I feel like Jack has a way of pushing out traumatic things, so her breakdown about After would be just a bit delayed. Don't worry, it's coming.**

**Tell me what you think with a nice review. **

**Don't forget to Fave and Follow and thank you to those who have! **

**As Always, **

**With Love **

**XOXO El. **


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